Wingman
by mascaret
Summary: Canon Version. When Bill wondered had he become the ugly friend who needed to be wingmanned away? A grenade to be fallen on so that the pilot could hit his target?


A/N Thank you again Beth for all your help with this story.

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_Wingman_

"Thank you for your time, Commander. I think that just about covers all of my concerns for the moment."

The President closed her folder and set her glasses down beside it. As she rose, the Commander and the others in the wardroom – Tigh, Gaeta, Dualla, and Keikeya – stood as well.

Her aide cleared his throat.

"Oh, there was one other thing! Commander, since the _Galactica_ is such a large ship and it seems – quite rightly – that we won't be networking it with an interactive map to help guide people around, might I borrow one of your crew to give a tour to Billy and myself to familiarize ourselves with the ship?"

"Of course, Madam President." Not having the time or the desire to play tour guide to those two, Adama offered up someone else as a sacrifice. "I'm sure my XO would be delighted to personally give you a tour."

"I would?" Tigh asked. Seeing Bill's glare, Saul tried a recovery. "- Be delighted to personally give you a tour."

Clearly it was a fumble. "Commander, I'm sure your XO has more important things to do than hold our hands and lead us around. I would take no offense at the task being assigned to one of your junior officers."

Appreciating her being so reasonable, he agreed at once. "Mr. Gaeta, accompany the President and her aide on a tour of the ship."

As Gaeta approached, the President held up a hand. "Give us a minute, Mr. Gaeta."

"Yes, sir." Gaeta stepped back.

"I would prefer someone else."

"Is there a problem?" the Commander asked.

She leaned forward and lowered her voice. "Look Commander, I don't want to cause any trouble so I wasn't going to say anything, but the other day when I was climbing one of the ladders, I caught your Mr. Gaeta trying to look up my skirt."

Her voice was low, but it wasn't low enough.

"Gaeta? That's got to be some kind of mistake. Are you sure it was Gaeta?" Tigh asked.

"Sir, that wasn't me!" Appalled, Gaeta turned to his commanding officer. _ "Sir, you know that wasn't me!"_

"Not another word, Mr. Gaeta. You're relieved of duty."

Yes, the Commander knew it wasn't him, but Gaeta was just going to have to take one for the team. Same uniform color, hair similar in color and cut, both had been in the vicinity of the ladder - apparently the two of them looked alike from overhead. Bill had quickly looked to the floor when the President had looked down while halfway up the ladder, but while he had moved quickly enough to save himself he evidently hadn't moved quite quickly enough to save Gaeta.

"Gaeta?" Saul again questioned. "Bill, I'll admit she's got nice legs, but I don't think that they are _that_ nice."

The President glanced at Tigh for a moment before picking up her folder. "Perhaps you could spare Petty Officer Walla for an hour or two?"

"Petty Officer Walla?" The Commander tried to know the names of all his crew, but on that one he was coming up blank.

The President's aide came up behind her. "Do."

She half turned to look at him blankly.

"Do Walla." He clarified.

"Dualla." A hand went to cover her mouth as the President corrected herself. "Might we borrow Petty Officer Dualla?"

Bill stared for a moment. This couldn't be what it looked like. He noticed the President staring too. Back and forth between him and Gaeta.

Just wanting her out of the room, he agreed. "Of course, Madam President."

As soon as those three were out the door, Saul asked. "What the hell was that?"

Ignoring his XO, the Commander turned to Gaeta. "Mr. Gaeta, you are reinstated."

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

The Commander considered it for approximately half a second before replying, "Denied. You are dismissed."

When Gaeta just stood there glowering, he repeated himself more harshly. "Dismissed!"

Catching on, Tigh laughed. "Oh Bill! You didn't!"

"That's right, I didn't. Gaeta did. Now do you have those revised repair estimates?"

Tigh laughed all the harder.

When they finally finished, Adama picked up his papers and discovered a pair of glasses that were becoming familiar.

"You could always send Gaeta to hand them off." Saul smirked. "I'm sure that would go over well."

"I'll handle it myself."

Only a causeway down from the wardroom, the Commander heard the President's voice.

"I think I left my glasses in the wardroom. Why don't you two go on ahead without me? I'll catch up a little later."

Coming around the corner, he almost literally bumped into her.

"This is as far as you have gotten in the tour?"

"Yes, sir." Dee smirked

"Commander, I was just saying that I think I left my glasses in the wardroom. Could I interest you in accompanying me back to –"

Adama held out the glasses for her.

"Why thank you, Commander." Rather than look pleased, he thought he saw a flash of irritation.

"How long does it take to give a tour of this area of the ship? It's mostly just storage."

Dee seemed quite amused. "There have been a lot of inquiries as to the use and history of rooms."

The President made another attempt to get his Petty Officer alone with her aide. "Perhaps we could speed this along by breaking up into pairs? Commander, you and I could cover one half of the ship while Billy and your Petty Officer cover the other half. Billy and I can compare notes later."

When Bill wondered had he become the ugly friend who needed to be wingmanned away? A grenade to be fallen on so that the pilot could hit his target? Not so long ago he had been the target of coordinated attacks like these.

Okay so maybe it was long ago, he admitted seeing a glimpse of his reflection in a mirror as one of his pilots opened the hatch to enter the nearby head.

Feeling insulted and slightly petty, he made a different suggestion. "Or we could just pick up the pace."

Pointing left, right, left, right Adama called out room names as he strode quickly down the corridor. "Storage closet. Head. Pilot's quarters. Storage closet."

The President attempted to engage him in conversation to slow him down. "What kind of supplies are stored –"

Adama didn't let her finish. "- Military supplies. Not a civilian concern. Pilot's quarters – again not a civilian concern. Would you care to discuss the history and uses of the head?"

"Thank you Commander, but I don't think that will be necessary."

He finished the rest of that section of the ship in a similar pace and tone.

Moving into a new area, he offered a word of caution. "This area ahead is still under repair. Watch your step."

Reaching a collection of wires crisscrossing the floor, the President stopped. "Commander, I'm afraid heels aren't the most practical choice for maneuvering through this. Would you mind offering me your arm? "

He bit back a question about what exactly were shoes like those practical for and did as was asked of him.

Once clear of the construction, she didn't let go. Still holding his arm, she began to set the walking pace. Her much more leisurely pace allowed the couple trailing behind them the opportunity for conversation.

"So is Dee your call sign?"

"No." Dualla seemed highly amused. "Only the pilots have call signs."

"Oh, so Dee is just a nickname."

Dualla nodded. "What about you, Billy? Do you have any nicknames?"

Billy shook his head. "Just your standard Bill, Billy, William."

The President turned back and subtly motioned for her aide to continue on and not let the conversation drop. Her aide, however, didn't seem to be able to think of a way to continue the conversation.

The awkward silence that started to stretch out between the young couple was finally filled by the President. "Now that's not entirely true, Billy. I seem to recall that President Adar's staff had a nickname for you?"

"No." Billy shook his head. "They didn't."

Adama began to pray to the gods he didn't believe in for the arrival of a cylon basestar, another explosion to finish off the water tanks, anything to not have to continue watching the President of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol act as wingman for her aide.

"Oh come on, Billy! I don't recall exactly what it was, but it wasn't anything bad."

She explained. "As the Secretary of Education, my offices were in the Hall of Education. There weren't very many young people on my staff so sometimes I would take Billy with me to the Presidential Offices when I went to meet with President Adar."

"I'm sure Billy thought it quite the honor to get to sit in on meetings with the President." Personally, Adama wouldn't have thought any such thing about having to suffer through time in a room with President Richard Adar, but he realized that the President was attempting to fulfill her wingman duties by talking up her aide.

"Oh Billy didn't actually come into the meetings with me. I went in alone. He would stay in the outer offices to chat up the President's staff and make sure the President and I weren't disturbed. Billy was quite popular with President Adar's staff – particularly the ladies. They would start smiling as soon as they saw him walking down the hallway. They had a nickname for him."

The area around her eyes crinkled in concentration. "Billy, what was it that the staff there used to call you?"

She didn't seem to notice her aide's attempts to casually, yet franticly, deter her from continuing. "Shoes? No, that's not quite right. What was it that they called you?"

"I really couldn't remember, Madam President." The President's aide was blushing furiously and contemplating the floor.

"Boots?" Adama offered.

"That was it! That was what they called you, Billy Boots!"

Adama ceased walking and turned to give this President his full attention. "So let me see if I have this straight. Billy used to go with you to the President's offices. He would wait outside the room while you had closed door meetings with President Adar. And the President's staff referred to him as 'Billy Boots.'

"Yes." She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and waited expectantly for him to continue.

Apparently, the President and her aide alternated pilot and wingman duty.

As she again glanced back to check on the progress of her aide, Adama allowed his eyes to leave her face and leisurely travel down her body. On the way back up, he found her again looking at him. Her arms were now crossed and a slightly affronted expression was upon her face.

This tour had certainly proved rather informative. Amongst other things, he had learned that President Adar's staff was aware of the military tradition of leaving a pair of boots outside the door of a room in which the occupants were frakking as a signal not to enter.

Having had enough of the tour, he offered a piece of advice before departing. "Madam President, you might want to run that story by your personal military advisor before sharing it with anyone else."

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A/N Reviews would be lovely.

A slightly different, less canonical ending to the story can be found on Survival Instinct under the same title and penname.


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